Omens (wattys2016)

Eight.

I enter my room, removing my hoodie and work clothes, changing into a pair of too large sweats and think tank top. The heater in the corner is on full blast and the cold night air has not yet managed to slink its way in.

My phone vibrates on the night stand where I left it. I have 2 missed calls from Daphne and about three unread texts. I scroll through them.

Daphne: (8:30pm) How is it going?

Daphne: (9:45pm) OMG, are you still with him? I am going to assume he has warmed your frozen heart by now and you two are currently making out.

Daphne: (10:45pm) Call me! I need to hear every single detail!!

I close the phone and place it back on the water stained table. There is no current response I can send to her that won't end with her banging on the security gate demanding to be let in. Brandon has already warned me once about having visitors after curfew and I don't feel like having to pull trash duty again simply because I may or may not be having a complete psychotic break.

It is now eleven fifteen at night, which means everyone is officially asleep. This rules out talking to the on-site therapist. Not that it would help at all. What would I even say? 'Sorry for bothering you Dr. Hughes but remember when I told you I had an out of body experience the night I died? Yea, I totally just ran into the mystery guy who was there that night. In fact, it turns out he is super attractive and even bought me a hamburger." For some reason I feel like that might earn me a one way ticket back to Charity Hospital. I had spent two years after the accident in that horrid place, surrounding by nurses who force fed me funny tasting pills. No way was I trying to go back.

Trying to remember my therapy sessions, I rack my brain on the steps I was taught on how to properly evaluate a stressful situation. Okay, step one, make a list of all the things I know. Seems simple enough. I know I just had dinner with the guy who I have spent years thinking I made up. I know I just punched him in the face. I know my ring and pinky finger may be broken. Step two...shit, I can't remember step two.

I fling myself back onto my pillow, hands covering my face. It is late and I am past exhausted at this point. Maybe I should get some sleep. Sort this out tomorrow. Maybe by then the weirdness will have faded and I can just pretend this whole thing never happened.

"Omera."

Nope. I did not just hear his voice in my room. If I just lay here with my eyes closed the voice will go away. The feeling that I am being watched will go away.

"Omera, I know you can hear me."

I open one eye slightly to see Jackson standing at the edge of my bed. I immediately close that eye. No way is he in my room. No way did he just appear out of thin air. I feel the side of the bed sink under his weight.

"Omera I know you're awake," he says.

I jump up, kicking him as hard as I can in the side. Jackson tumbles off the bed, landing on the floor loudly. I stand on the middle of my bed, looking down at the boy on the floor.

"What? How?" I gasp. My skin is doing strange things, tingling. I feel it growing hotter and hotter with each passing second. Something in my chest twists sharply, sending a hot pain shooting through my veins.

Jackson pulls himself to his feet, slowing inching his way towards the bed. I back up, trying not to fall as the mattress shifts under my feet. The heat in my veins grows. The hairs on my body stand at full attention. He now stands at the side of my bed, hand stretched out towards me.

"I think we need to talk," he says.

That is when it happens. My head starts spinning, the blood in my veins heats pasting boiling. My vision flashes white as a bright glow fills the room, illuminating even the darkest corners. It takes me a minute to realize the light is coming from me. Electricity is rolling off my skin in waves, forming a barrier around me. His jaw drops, green eyes starting to glow.

"I knew it," he whispers to himself.

"What the?" I gasp loudly. I hold my hand out in front of me, examining the electricity that is running over it.

"I knew it," he repeats much louder than before, "I mean, you felt off at the party but I figured it was because I had too much to drink. Then earlier, in the coffee shop, when our hands touched, I felt it again. Every time you are near I can feel it."

"Feel what? What is going on? What is happening to me?" I back myself against the wall, hand still in front of me. I can't stop staring at it, at the currents running over my skin. I slide down, now sitting on the bed. Jackson climbs onto the bed and I move quickly, jumping off the side and moving away from him. He caused this. He caused this...thing to happen to me.

"Get away," I order, "What did you do to me?" Jackson doesn't listen, doesn't stop coming towards me. My eyes dart around the room, looking for a weapon. I could hit him, knock him out. Then maybe this...this..whatever this is will go away.

His hands grip my shoulders, holding me in place. I see the currents travel off me skin into him, causing his eyes to glow brighter. They're almost neon now.

"Omera, calm down. If you calm down it will stop," he says.

"Calm down?" I shout, "Calm down? I am glowing like a friggin street light and you are telling me to calm down? None of this started happening until you showed up. How did you even get here? What are you? What is happening to me?"

The light around glows brighter. My skin is still hot, too hot. I feel as if I am going to burst into flames at any moment. This is too much. This whole day, my whole life, is too much. I can feel temperature rising, feel my lungs struggling to take in air.

Jackson lets me go and begins to back away from me. His neon eyes are scanning the room in search of something. He is talking to himself again but my ears have started ringing and I can't hear him anymore. I try to focus on his mouth, try to make out the words he is saying. The ringing grows louder and I grab my ears, trying to block it out.

He is shaking me now. Shouting something but the ringing is too loud and my hands are still clamped down on my ear. I am faintly aware that someone is screaming. I think it's me. Jackson places his hands over mine, forcing me to look at him. His lips moves and I squint, trying to read them. That's when he kisses me.